The Underground
by tyger666
Summary: Miles beneath London, lies a nightclub, where a vampiric Harry Potter and an intoxicated Severus Snape meet. What good could possibly come of this? Slash. SSHP. vampire!trio
1. The Underground

_A/N: Ok, guys, this is a real stretch for me. I want to tell you everything right now. I'm thinking of giving up on Death Waits for no Hero and focising all my attention on this, because, frankly, this is more interesting to me right now. But first, I want to know if anybody will even like it. So I'll give you what details I'm sure of right now. This will be rated R, possibly NC-17 later, at which point I will start editing it. It will have a vampire!trio, with implied HarryRonHermione threesome(possibly more than implied). Hopefully, if the plot doesn't run away with me, it will end up being Snarry though. There will be mentions of eating disorders, at least once, probably continuing throughout the fic. Tell me if you want to read a story like this. If you do, then I will continue to post it. If not, then I will find somewhere else. And, um...yeah. That's it._

**The Underground**

---------------

The Underground is a nightclub. Its entrance is a small out-of-the-way building in muggle London, but it is anything but muggle. It is a melting pot, built so far underground that you can almost imagine that you feel the heat of the earth's core through the floor. The mist rising from the ground softens the edges of the world, while the strobe lights throw it all into sharp relief. All races, all cultures, all species are welcome, though it is predominantly a vampire club. Blood, sex, and alcohol mingle in the back rooms, and even the screams sound in time with the beat. Quite often people leave the Underground quite a different species than they were when they entered, but somewhow it is never been revealed to the general public. Those who would put a stop to it usually find themselves of a different opinion after one night at the bar, and those that don't are quickly disposed of.

After all, the Underground is a place of freedom. A den of debauchery, and hellish haven. Angels that cry blood and demons that drink it find each other in the dark embrace of the Underground.

Is it any surprise that Harry Potter was drawn in?


	2. Dance of the Damned

**The Dance of the Damned**

---------------

The strobe lights pulsed, and the damned souls of the Underground pulsed with them. The music was not really music, but a constant, throbbing beat that drove its way into your very core and stayed there. Harry was among the many dancers, weaving his way through them with a grace that defied humanity. Ron was alongside him, and together they entranced those that saw them. Harry contorted and twisted in a way that looked almost painful and certainly impossible to do with human joints. Ron was the exact opposite, flowing and curving and liquid. The dance of the damned was theirs. Harry in leather and buckles and chains, Ron in a pair of torn up jeans and nothing else.

Harry touched Ron's arm and gave him a look, saying more with the glance than he could with words. Then he headed over to the bar, where blood and beer were served freely, and no one was ever asked to show an ID. The Bartender grinned at him.

"What'll it be today?"

Harry just waved his hand, not caring what he ended up with. A person sitting near the end of the bar suddenly got up and grabbed Harry by the arm. Harry looked up, angry. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm keeping you from getting infected with something unpleasant, Potter."

It was Snape.

Sneering, Harry pulled his arm back and grabbed the bottle of blood that had been placed in front of him.

"I wouldn't drink that if I were you," Snape pointed out. "I doubt you would find it to your liking."

"Wanna bet?" Harry snarled, before draining half of the bottle in one long gulp. He ran his tongue over his now very noticeable fangs. "What are you doing here, Snape?"

Snape was staring, almost certain that his jaw was hanging open. Harry smirked at his expression. "What? Something wrong?"

Snape shook his head. "Nothing, Potter, except for the fact that you appear to be a vampire."

Harry snorted. "No shit. You really think that _someone_ would have noticed three vampires running around in a school."

"_Three_ vampires?"

"Yeah. Me, Ron, and Hermione. Who'd you expect?"

Snape sighed. "I should have known. I'm assuming you bestowed your 'gift' on Granger as a sign of affection and she foisted it upon young Mister Weasley...?"

Harry's expression changed to one of deepest disgust. "Me and _Hermione?_ Are you kidding? Nah, Ron noticed the fangs when we were...well, when we were _busy._ He's the one that changed Hermione."

Snape was too drunk for this. "So...you...what?"

Harry leaned forward, sweeping his eyes up and down Snape's body like he was measuring him. "You're kind of sexy when you're incoherent, you know that?"

Snape drew back, and tried to focus. "Potter. You shouldn't be here."

"Someone should have told me that _before_ I got turned," Harry quipped. "Now it's just stupid. Of course I belong here. This is a _vampire_ club. If anything, you're the one who's out of place."

Ignoring the impeccable logic of that statement, Snape tried to form a counter attack, only to have his thoughts interrupted by a very underdressed Ron Weasley throwing himself at Harry.

"Bloody hell, Weasley," Snape said, a bit too loudly. "I was hoping to go the rest of my life _without _seeing you topless."

Ron turned around so fast it was dizzying. "Snape. Here for some fun?" He waggled his eyebrows, making Harry laugh.

"No, he's just here to get drunk and bother me," Harry answered for him.

Ron shrugged. "Figures." And he went back to his throwing-himself-at-Harry thing. Snape watched for a moment, then turned away, disgusted.

--------------------

It was much later, and Snape was still at the bar, drinking. He had gotten tired of the beer and had moved on to straight vodka, and was rapidly approaching lethal levels of drunkenness. Harry slid into the seat beside him.

"Still drinking, hmm?" His voice was husky, and he sounded a little drunk himself, though if Snape had been able to process any information at that point, he would have realized that technically, vampires couldn't _get_ drunk.

"Bugger off, Potter..." He slurred, waving a half empty bottle at the pair.

Harry laughed. "I would, but I'm almost afraid of what would happen if I left you alone here."

Snape sighed, dropping the bottle to the floor, flinching at the sound of glass breaking. "Probably get eaten. Merlin knows I've had it coming..."

His speech was so slurred it was almost impossible to understand, but Harry managed to. He nodded. "Right then. You've had enough for one night, I think."

He grabbed Snape and helped him off of the stool, then yelled something, and in a flash Ron was by his side.

"Help me, would you? He's piss drunk, and I think he might be about to pass out."

Ron nodded. He went to Snape's other side, and together they got him to the suite that Harry owned in the back of the club. Opening the door, they half carried-half dragged Snape to the bed and laid him down.

"Come on," Harry said to Ron. "Let's let him rest in here. We can go somewhere else for our...fun."

He pulled Ron after him, into the main room of the suite, where they collapsed together on an enormous couch.

Harry looked back towards the bedroom. "I just hope he doesn't throw up on the bed..."

Ron gave him a funny look. "He's just Snape, mate. You could have left him there."

Harry shook his head. "No. I couldn't. He was about to drink himself into a coma. I wonder if he was only in there to keep track of me, or if he actually goes there by himself..."

"The way he was drinking, I'd say he's a regular..."

Harry snickered. "Lets just leave some of that vile hangover vanishing potion for him and get out of here."

Ron immediately agreed, and soon they were leaving the suite again, heading out to the main dance floor once more, prepared for yet another in an endless string of very late nights.


	3. The Morning After

---------------------------------

Snape woke up quickly, like someone switching on a light, and was up on his feet, wand in hand, before he even noticed that he had a migrane. Instincts that had saved his life before. He looked around carefull, trying to recall details of the night before, and coing up completely blank. He recognised the room he was in, but only barely, and that was surprising. He assumed that he must be somewhere in the Underground. After all, that was where he usually spent his Saturday nights. The only strange about the situation was that he had woken up alone, considering the circumstances.

He grimaced in pain as his head felt like it had just been assaulted with several tons of concrete. It was then that he noticed the small bottle on the side table beside the bed.

_Thought you might want this. In case you can't tell, it's a hangover remedy._

_By the way, I'm sure we can trust you to keep our little secret? Because otherwise, we might have to do something rash._

_-Harry & Ron_

The night before hit him like a freight train. Potter and Weasley? Shit.

He picked up the bottle and stared at it, trying to determine if it was what the note said it was. When he was satisfied, he downed the bottle and sighed in relief as his head stopped pounding. Staggering slightly from tiredness, he weaved out of the bedroom, trying to remember why it was he had even agreed to find out where Potter was going at night.

As he put on his coat, he sneered to himself, recalling his stupidity of the night before. How could he have been so ridiculously dimwitted as to get drunk when he was on a 'mission' from the headmaster himself?

He checked to make sure his wand was in his robes, and made his way back to Hogwarts as quickly as possible. He needed to speak to Dumbledore. But first, he needed to speak to Potter.

-------------------------

Harry was splayed over a chair obscenely in the common room, and both Ron and Hermione were looking at him appreciatively. He smiled at them, and finished his recount of the night before.

"So, anyway, we left him in the room with a hangover remedy and that was that."

Hermione laughed. "Did you really tell him he looked sexy?"

Harry shifted awkwardly, not looking at either of them. "Well...umm...that is...yeah..."

More laughter.

"What?" He snapped, sitting up. He didn't like being laughed at.

Hermione's eyes sparkled mischeviously. "I'm just trying to picture the two of you together. You would be _so hot_."

Harry blinked. "O...kay..."

"Oh, come _on!_" Hermione argued. "You can't see it?"

Ron was choking.

Harry, smirking at Ron's antics, replied, "Not really..."

Hermione just smiled knowingly at him, and changed the subject. "I'm sorry I couldn't go last night, but I just _had _to finish that essay, we only had the weekend to do it, and-"

"Hermione," Ron interrupted. "It's okay."

He kissed her. Her troubled expression faded instantly to one of purest contentment. Harry grinned, his fangs making it look dangerous despite his calm expression.

"You two belong together, you know that?"

Ron threw a pillow at him.

----------------------------

It was Potions class. The 'Golden Trio' was sitting in the back of the room, looking somewhat menacing despite the fact that they were trying to hold back an explosion of laughter as Snape snapped at Malfoy for 'holding the ingredients wrong'. It was the third time that class he had taken points from Slytherin, and the Gryffindors were looking on in shock while the Slytherins were discreetly checking their head of house for enchantments.

"I think _someone_'_s_ in a bad mood..." Harry whispered to Hermione, who was sitting in the middle. She turned to shush him before Snape saw, but it was too late.

"Potter!"

Harry sat up straight. "Yes, sir?"

Snape stared, as if trying to decide if that had been a sarcastic remark or not.

"Detention for talking during class."

He nodded. "Yes sir."

He stuck his tongue out at Snape when his back was turned. When Ron snickered, Hermione elbowed him in the ribs.

"Ron!"

"Sorry," He muttered, ducking his head. Harry laughed quietly to himself, then turned back to the class.

-----------------------------

"You should make your move in detention tonight."

Harry spluttered and dropped his glass of pumpkin juice, which he had not been drinking anyway. The liquid slowly spread across the table, until Hermione grabbed a napkin and started to mop it up. Harry was still staring at her in horror.

"That can't mean what I think it meant."

She tutted and gave him a look. "Of course it did, Harry. You _should_. You admitted that you think he's good looking, and while he's not the nicest of people, he's not exactly evil...He might even be nice, very, _very_ deep down..."

"Yeah!" Harry retorted. "I'm sure he's just acting like a complete bastard to hide his secret heartache!"

Giving him an exasperated look, Hermione cocked an eyebrow at him. "Now you're just being difficult."

Harry nodded. "Glad you figured that out. Maybe you'll leave me alone about this now."

She smacked him in the back of the head. "I'm not going to let you ruin a chance like this."

Harry glared at her. "What if I like you and Ron _more_ than him? What if I like him, but I would rather spend time with the two of you?"

Hermione drew back, as if this was a completely new idea for her.

"I...well..."

Harry snorted in contempt. "Thought so."

With a sneer, he got up from the table. Hermione looked for a moment like she was going to follow him, but thought better of it. Ginny, on the other hand, who had been listening in, was not quite so wise. Frowning, she quickly made an an excuse to her friends and followed Harry out of the Hall.

"Harry!"

Snarling, Harry turned around, expecting Hermione, only to be greeted with a shocked Ginny staring at him. Sighing, he dropped the sneer. _This is Ginny. Ginny equals friend. Harmless friend. Play nice._

"What do you want, Ginny?" He asked wearily.

She walked up to him, concerned. "What was Hermione talking about?"

"Nothing," Harry answered quickly. _Be careful, Harry. This could get bad._ "It was nothing. Just some stupid argument. She wants me to make a move on someone I'm interested in, and I...I didn't want to hurt her or Ron."

"But," Ginny asked, confused. "Aren't Ron and Hermione together? Why would you going out with someone hurt either of them?"

_Shit. _Glancing away, Harry realized his mistake. It was too late to say anything to fix it, though. Now all he could hope for was some decent damage control.

"Ginny, I can't answer that, because anything I say could put me - and you - in danger." It was a blatant lie, but there was nothing else for it. "I promise I'll tell you everything eventually, okay? Just...not now."

She nodded, and Harry smiled.

"Good. I have to go to detention now. Snape," he added, grimacing. She winced in sympathy. "I'll see you later, Ginny."

"Okay," she said, her eyes narrowing in suspicion as soon as Harry turned around.

There was _definitely_ something very wrong there. And there was no way in hell that she was letting Harry get away with all the crap he had just spewed at her.

--------------

Harry headed to the dungeons, trying not to worry too much about the conversation that had just taken place. He had as much as given away his relationship with Ron and Hermione to Ginny, and that could have been a complete disaster. She had gotten much more aggressive over the years, and if she thought for a moment that Harry was hurting either Ron or Hermione, or if she had any kind of problem with the thought of him and Ron together, she could potentially ruin their lives.

For a while, at least.

But he had dodged that bullet, for the moment, and now all he had to worry about was his 'detention'. He had the feeling that it wasn't so much a detention as an opportunity for Snape to interrogate him.

_Just bloody perfect._


	4. A Delightful Detention

_AN: Sorry this took longer, guys. I have exams...Anyway, some more about the fic: Takes place in 7th year, after Voldemort's defeat. Snape and Harry developed a relatively non-hostile working relationship while Harry was training, which is why Snape will seem a little OOC. At least, that's the only excuse I could come up with._

**A "Delightful" Detention (REWRITTEN)  
**

**-------------------------------**

Harry walked slowly into the classroom, and stood stoicly in front of Snape's desk, determined to keep as calm as he could. Snape had still not looked up from his work, and Harry took the time to smooth his features and school his face into an expression of arrogance.

"Hello Professor."

Snape glanced up from where he was grading papers. "Sit down, Potter."

Harry chose the seat right in front of the Professor's desk. He leaned back in his chair, looking more at ease than anyone had the right to, especially in the potions classroom. He studied his fingernails while Snape pretended not to be staring. His eyes, glowing slightly in the dim light, surveyed the room with an air of contempt that would have put even Draco Malfoy's to shame, and he waited.

------------------------------

Snape was watching carefully, and was more than a bit perturbed by what he had observed.

_How has no one noticed this? _

Potter had perfected the expression of loathing that now adorned his features, and it was enough to make anyone cringe. As Snape watched, he yawned, and his fangs were perfectly displayed for the world to see. Even his eyes were not pure grass green as they had always been. Black spiderwebs threaded through the green, cracking it, making the boy seem even more inhuman than he already did. His eyes flicked back towards Snape, and the man immediately went back to his grading, trying to ignore the shiver that had gone down his back at the sight of that hateful gaze turned on him. Even when he was training to defeat Voldemort, Potter had never been like this. Now that the Dark Lord was dead, it seemed as if he ought to go back to the happy - if dull - boy that he had been. Unfortunately - though for whom, he couldn't tell - it had not happened like that.

-------------------------------

_I wonder if I can make him flinch?_

The thought wandered through his mind, and Harry smirked, enjoying the way that Snape was pretending not to be affected. Maybe Hermione was right - there was certainly potential. But there was quite a bit of history between the two of them. Maybe he should wait? Either way, he refused to 'make his move', as Hermione had so crudely put it, tonight, while the Potions Professor was still in shock about the discoveries that had been made the night before. No, it would be best to act as he would to anyone else who put him in this position.

After a few minutes, Snape put down the papers that he had been trying to grade and looked up at Harry. "How are you doing it, Potter?"

Harry blinked. Then sneered. "How am I doing _what,_ Snape? Be specific."

Snape was taken aback by the malice that laced every word spoken by the boy sitting in front of him. He couldn't remember hearing that tone from the boy in at least a year. He quickly recovered, though, and leaned forward over his desk. "How are you hiding it from Dumbledore? You barely bother to hide the fact that you don't _eat._ It's amazing that your classmates haven't figured it out."

Harry laughed, a short, harsh sound. "Oh, they've figured it out; they're just too scared to say anything about it."

"They _know_?"

He shrugged. "In Gryffindor it's pretty much considered fact, but no one likes to talk about it. Only a few people have been kept very carefully in the dark - like Ginny, you know? Ravenclaws are all experts on vampires - now, at least- so they know how not to offend us. Slytherin is about half and half. Occasionally we get the stupid fifth year wanting us to change them, but that's all the trouble we've had from them. And we have no idea what is widely believed among the Hufflepuffs, as they are at least as secretive as Slytherin House, and twice as impossible to infiltrate."

He sat back, and reveled in the stricken look on Snape's face. As he watched, it slowly morphed into one of genuine confusion. "You talk about Hufflepuffs like they're actually dangerous. Why? They couldn't keep a secret if their lives depended on it."

Harry smirked. "In my opinion, the most effective way to keep a really important secret is to have everyone think that you can't keep secrets at all. That way, everyone assumes you have nothing to hide." He grimaced. "Seriously, trying to get real information from a Hufflepuff? It's scary. Walking into their common room is like walking into the middle of a cult meeting. They're all so _quiet_."

Snape was still trying to come to terms with the thought of Hufflepuffs as actually having something to hide, when he realised what had just occured. "You are trying to distract me, Potter. If you want to tell horror stories about the other houses, I suggest you do so in your common room. Now, answer my question."

Harry's eyebrows shot up, surprised for a moment, but he recovered and stared up at Snape innocently. "Which question would that be again, Professor? I'm afraid that I just _don't remember_."

Snape sighed and rubbed his temples, where a headache was slowly hammering its way into his head. "Potter, I am not. in. the. mood. Answer the question."

Harry smirked, and answered. "Not much to hide. Like I said, Dumbledore is really the only one to worry about. None of the other teachers are going to find out, and even if they did, they could be dealt with. And no, I don't mean killed," He said, observing the growing look of horror on Snape's face. "But that's beside the point. Dumbledore doesn't care what happens to me anymore, now that Voldemort is dead. I've done my part."

Snape laughed meanly, and retorted, "Surely you know that Dumbledore considers you like 'a son' to him? You're practically the man's _pet._"

"Not anymore," Harry growled, and Snape wondered yet again how none of the teachers had noticed this. The longer he spoke to the boy, the more obvious the changes to his personality became.

"How did it happen?"

This time Harry did not waste time with games. He just sighed in - was it defeat? - and answered. "Vampires. They just can't keep their hands to themselves, you know?" He laughed bitterly. "A couple of weeks after I finished off Voldemort, I was in Hogsmeade, celebrating. The vampire was in the Three Broomsticks. I didn't know she was a vampire, not until the morning after. I had marks on my neck." He smiled, self loathing evident on his face. "It took me a while after that to figure out why I was so _hungry._"

Snape nodded, his face blank. "Who helped you?"

Harry snorted. "Who _helped _me? No one, that's who. I figured it out all by myself. You think I would _tell _someone? With all due respect, sir, I'm not as stupid as I look. I was completely alone until I took Ron and Hermione. Purely selfish reasons, of course. I wanted a family..."

Snape was confused. "Aren't there some vampire laws that prohibit changing humans?"

Harry looked at him incredulously. Then he laughed again, but this time it was not bitter, just amused. "Laws?" At Snape's confused gaze, he continued. "Someone's been lying to you, Professor. There is no vampire monarchy. There is no organization. There are no _laws._" His expression grew serious. "We are a disease, Professor, killing each other off just as quickly as we are made, sucking the life out of the wizarding world."

"How do you know all this?"

"Memories, passed from the maker to the childe, lasting hundreds of thousands of years...all in here," He said, tapping his head. "It hurts, sometimes. I can't keep my memories in order. I can remember back before Hogwarts, before Merlin, before wizards were wizards and magic as magic, just as clearly as I remember what was for breakfast this morning. Though I suppose Ron and Hermione have it worse. I had sixteen years of abuse in my memories, which I passed on to them..."

Taken aback, Snape could only mouth silently. This was not the Potter that he knew. Even when they had been on speaking terms the year before (while Harry was training for the 'final battle'), he had never heard anything about the boy's childhood. It was just something that no one talked about. "Abuse?"

Harry's head snapped up from where he had been staring at the floor in contemplation. "Not now, Snape. I answered your questions. Do I have to scrub cauldrons now or something, or should I just head back to the common room?"

Snape let him go. It was, after all, very late, and he needed some time to think.

-------------

In the Gryffindor Common Room, Ginny stared into the fire, contemplating. She knew by now that there was some very big secret that almost everyone in Hogwarts seemed to know, except her. She had heard the whispers, seen the people that watched the Golden Trio with what could only be fear as they passed others in the halls. And yet, she had actually _heard_ none of the whispers, and had no idea _why_ the people watched the Trio like they were dangerous.

As a matter of fact, it seemed that the only people besides her who had no idea what was really going on were her friends. That alone was enough to make her suspicious. Neither Neville nor Luna, nor any of the girls in Gryffindor that she usually talked to, knew what the big secret was.

So she had asked around. She had cornered Susan Bones in a corridor and asked her. Susan had stuttered out that she had no idea what Ginny was talking about, as had Justin Finch-Fletchley and some Ravenclaw boy whose name she didn't know.

It was starting to piss her off.

Now she was all alone, trying to figure out what to do. She could team up with Luna - she was smart, no matter how she acted - and try to find the truth, or she could be sneaky. Follow Harry, Ron, and Hermione, everywhere they went, see who they talked to, what they did, and hopefully, why.

There was really nothing for it. She was going to have to do whatever she could, because if there was one thing she couldn't stand, it was being lied to, and that was almost certainly what was happening.

She was going to make it stop.


	5. We Meet Again

_AN: This chapter is a little disjointed, and I'm sorry for that. but still, PLEASE REVIEW!! I am a review whore!_

_Disclaim Her: HBP did not happen._

_It's only forever_

_Not long at all_

_The lost and the lonely_

_That's the Underground._

_-the underground, from Labyrinth_

_ **(REWRITE)**  
_

Harry took a drag from the joint he held in his right hand, the smoke clouding his vision, making the world less sharp, more hazy and blurred. He was sitting up in his bed, with the curtains drawn, contemplating the conversation he had had with the Potions Professor earlier that night. What had he been _thinking? _Opening up to _Snape,_ of all people? But it didn't really matter. No harm had come of it, and in a hundred years Snape would be dead, and Harry would be the only one who even remembered that such a conversation had taken place.

"Oh, god, you're having another 'centaur moment', aren't you?"

Ron was standing there, having pulled the curtains back, staring at Harry with a glint of amusement in his eyes. Harry smiled faintly. "Hey Ron."

He exhaled, blowing the smoke into Ron's face. Smiling slightly at the look on his face, Harry asked, "Do you regret it?

"Regret what?"

Harry gestured between the two of them. ".._This._"

Ron stared for a moment, then sat down on the bed with him. "Wow, mate, you really _are_ busy thinking deep thoughts and shit. No, I don't regret it."

Harry nodded, then asked, "Will you regret it a thousand years from now?"

"No."

"Not even when everyone you know and love is dead?"

Ron laughed, and pulled Harry into a hug. "Everyone I know and love won't be dead. I'll have you and Hermione, stupid."

Harry grinned wearily, then looked away. "I think I'll regret it, though."

Ron sighed exasperatedly. "Yeah, but you're the one who didn't have a choice, so you don't get to regret it, okay?"

Harry smiled, and leaned over to kiss Ron softly, before getting up and heading to the bathroom. "Okay. Thanks."

Ron just laughed.

-----------------------------------------

"Hurry up, we want to get there before the humans flood the place!"

Harry giggled, which was very unusual for him, and slung his arm around Hermione's petite shoulders. "Don't worry, Hermione, the Underground isn't going to crawl away while Ron gets ready."

Ron stepped in just then, and both Harry and Hermione grinned, ready to go. "Come _on_," Hermione said, and grabbed Ron's arm, pulling him towards the door.

Grinning, Harry and his friends made their way down the tunnel that led to Hogsmeade, where they could apparate to the Underground.

-----------------------

They had been there for a good three hours, and had not even begun to get tired, but Harry headed over to the bar, if only to get something to drink. As he neared it, though, he caught sight of someone that he was almost positive should not have been there.

"Fuck! Snape, do you spend _every night_ here?" Harry threw himself onto the stool next to where Snape was leaning on the bar.

"I could ask the same of you, Potter."

Harry leaned his head back so he could look into the professor's eyes. "Well, the answer to that would be yes. I see you aren't drunk tonight. Yet, that is," he added, rather meanly.

Snape glared at him, then returned to his drink. "Don't you have some other poor fool to bother, or are you intent on ruining _my_ night?"

Harry laughed. "Why haven't I seen you here before? I spend an awful lot of time at the bar, but the first time I saw you was last Saturday...were you looking for me?"

Snape gave him a withering glare. "Unfortunately," he drawled. "The headmaster was interested in where his 'boy wonder' spends his nights. I suppose he expected me to keep you from sullying your virtue. Though it seems to be a bit late for that," he said, his eyes raking over Harry's body. Harry would have blushed, had there been enough blood left in his body to do so.

"So, you came once and couldn't leave, hmm?"

Snape snorted. "I must admit, the drinks here are much better than the pitiful excuse for alcohol they serve at the Hog's Head."

Harry leaned closer. "So, _Professor_, are you planning on sitting here drinking the night away?"

Snape backed away slightly. "Potter, you are too close."

Harry snickered, and returned to his relaxed position. "And _you_, sir, are too uptight. You need to have some fun. Get laid..."

Snape gave him a death glare. "That was out of line."

"Ah," Harry sighed. "You are _definitely_ not drunk." Shooting another look at Snape, he murmured, "Too bad...I was in the mood for something...different, tonight."

The glare tripled in strength. "Are you _insinuating _something, Potter?"

Harry grinned, and struck an outrageous pose. "Do you want me to be insinuating something?"

Snape leaned forward, taking a breath as if to say something, but stopped. And pulled back. "I would be careful what you say, Potter. It might cause someone to do something you'd regret."

"I've decided to give up regretting things," Harry said, putting his feet up on the bar, despite the glare from the Bartender. "I find it just wastes my time and makes me impossible to hold a conversation with."

"You're already impossible to hold a conversation with," Snape said, smirking.

"I know."

After a moment or so of silence, Snape sighed. "You aren't going to leave me alone, are you?" When Harry shook his head, he groaned. "Where are your fuck buddies, Potter? Surely they're missing you."

Grimacing at the term 'fuck buddies', Harry quickly scanned the club for the pair. He spotted then close by, dancing together. Though, the longer he watched, the more it looked like they were having sex standing up, rather than just dancing. He smirked. The two of them were going to have a long eternity.

"I doubt they're interested in anything but each other at the moment, actually."

Snape followed Harry's gaze and almost gagged at the sight. "One wonders what you see in them."

Harry shrugged. "They'll have me, I guess."

"Surely that is not the only reason."

"No."

He left it at that, and Snape nearly growled in frustration. "What are you doing here?"

Harry gave him an odd look. "I'm having fun, what does it look like?"

Snape shook his head. "That's not what I meant. You don't belong here, Potter, you should be..." He struggled for the words.

"Virginal? _Pure?_ Or, maybe, I don't know, _not a vampire?_"

Sighing in defeat, or something like it, Snape nodded. "Yes."

Harry threw his head back and laughed. "Not much to do about it now, though, is there?"

He glanced at Snape, his eyes dancing, and Snape couldn't remember what he had been about to say. "I-Potter-you-"

"Maybe you should call me Harry." At Snape's horrified stare, Harry continued. "Especially if we're going to keep seeing each other here and I'm going to keep hitting on you."

Trying to keep from falling off his stool, Snape turned to the Bartender and ordered another drink.

"Another? God, Snape, just _please_ try not to get so drunk this time?"

"I'll have you know that I _have_ been here before, I just stopped coming...a very long time ago. I have lost my very strong tolerance."

"Fine. But I don't fancy carrying you to my suite again. Especially if it doesn't end in sex."

Snape threw his hands into the air, and Harry became aware of the fact that Snape might be a bit more drunk than he appeared. "Must _everything_ have something to do with sex?"

Harry pretended to consider the question for a moment, then returned his gaze to Snape, who was busy drowning himself with vodka. "Yep, pretty much."

Snape turned once more to study the young man before him. "Do you have multiple personalities or something?"

Harry snickered into his hand, and responded, "No, but I do think I might be bipolar. If nothing else, I get all pissy when I'm thirsty."

He grinned, his fangs a bit more obvious than usual, and snapped playfully at the Potions Professor. Snape winced, and turned away.

"Go away, Potter. I don't need your help to pass out drunk."

Harry shrugged, smiled and walked away to join Ron and Hermione.

Snape ordered another shot.


	6. Confrontations Behind Closed Doors

As Harry was making his way back up to the tower that night, he was confronted by Draco Malfoy.

"Potter."

Harry surveyed him through half-lidded eyes. "Malfoy. What do you want?"

Malfoy studied him for a second, then said, "You're a vampire."

It was spoken with an air of authority and a great deal of confidence. Harry already wanted to hurt him. What he said next certainly didn't help.

"Just wait until everyone finds out that their precious 'Boy-Who-Lived' is actually a blood-sucking _fag._"

He smirked triumphantly, as if he had just won a contest. Harry was almost shaking with rage at this little _human_ who dared to insult him to his face.

Harry smiled, allowing his fangs to lengthen until they curled over his lower lip, something he did not do often, unless he was trying to scare someone. Or unless he was drunk. And he happened to be both at the moment. He stepped toward Malfoy, and the Slytherin backed away, still trying to look confident. "Why don't we take this conversation somewhere else, Malfoy? Wouldn't want anyone overhearing, now would we?"

Malfoy shook his head quickly, his eyes showing the first signs of panic. Obviously he had not thought about what the consequences of his little confrontation might be. Harry gestured for him to follow, then walked to a room that he used when he wanted to be alone. Watching carefully to make sure that Malfoy, wasn't trying to get away, he muttered the password (_sangre_) and opened the door, casting a silencing spell as he went.

Once it was closed behind the two, Harry turned around and slammed Malfoy into the wall hard enough to give him a concussion. Holding him by the neck, Harry leaned close and hissed, "Why shouldn't I kill you now for what you just said, hmm? Because the way you act, you don't seem too keen to hold on to life..."

Malfoy whimpered as the hand Harry was using to pin him to the wall tightened, cutting off his air. Harry laughed and leaned closer. "As for the _fag_ thing, I suggest you don't try to use that as an insult ever again. Especially, well, considering..." He trailed off, letting his silence speak louder than words.

Struggling to get oxygen through the tight hold that Harry had on his neck, Malfoy was still stupid enough to try to argue. "I don't know what you're talking about! I _never_-"

"Oh, give it up, Malfoy. Everyone knows about your little _tryst_ with Nott. I'm surprised no one's said anything to your face."

His eyes got very big, and he started choking. Snorting in contempt, Harry released him, and he slid down the wall onto the floor, rubbing his neck. "What the _hell,_ Potter? You almost killed me! I could have you expelled!"

"You could try."

"My _father-_"

"Your father isn't worth shit anymore, Malfoy. He may have gotten out of Azkaban because of some legal error, but that doesn't make him any less of a criminal. If you want my advice, you'd be better off trying to get on my good side than trying to get me expelled."

Malfoy scoffed. "_You!_ As if I would _ever-_"

Harry rolled his eyes. "You know what? Just _shut.up._"

He aimed his wand at Malfoy, who shrank back and glared weakly at him. "What in Merlin's name are you _on,_ Potter? You're behaving like a madman!"

Harry laughed, though somewhat hysterically. "Well, at the moment, I'm so drunk I can't see straight _and_ you're pissing me off, so I believe I have the right to act a little crazy."

Malfoy, slightly taken aback, paused for a while, then eventually asked, "Is it safe for me to leave, or will you be killing me as I go out the door?"

Harry arched one eyebrow at him. "I honestly don't know what I'll do. Why don't you open that door and find out?"

Malfoy hesitated, then tried for the doorknob, watching Harry carefully for any sign that he was about to attack. When he recieved no penalty for that, he slowly turned the knob, opening the door. Harry just watched, disinterested. As Malfoy began to edge out of the room, however, he spoke.

"Malfoy. I wouldn't suggest telling anyone about this. It...would not be smart, to say the least."

The Slytherin nodded slowly and exited, deciding that if Harry planned to kill him he would have done it already.

Harry sighed, and tried to calm down, occluding his mind to the point of almost not thinking at all. Malfoy was probably already in the Potions Professor's office, detailing just how he had been threatened. Harry had no doubt that he would soon be confronted by a _very_ angry Severus Snape.

He was not disappointed.

Snape burst into the room about fifteen minutes later, wand drawn, half expecting to be attacked. Harry struggled to withhold a laugh.

"Potter! _What did you do to my student?_"

Harry couldn't help it. He burst out laughing, and answered as clearly as he could. "I turned up the drunk, creepy, and dangerous vampire aspect of my personality, and totally ignored the sober part of my brain that was telling me that threatening him was a bad idea."

Snape glared at him, and did not put his wand away. "You speak very clearly for a drunk man."

Harry returned the glare full force. "As do you..._Sir,_" He added belatedly, with a heavy dose of sarcasm.

Rolling his eyes, Snape actually _aimed his wand at Harry._ Harry stared for a moment, then snarled. "What good do you think that will do you, Snape? I'm practically immune to magic. And on top of that, I'm drunk enough that I might kill you if I get really pissed off."

Snape wavered, and watched Harry closely, gauging his sincerity. Finally, sighing, he lowered his wand, and asked, "Potter, what did you do to Malfoy? He's convinced that you'll kill everyone in the school before the week is out."

Shifting awkwardly, Harry stared at the ground. "I...might have...pinned him to a wall and threatened to kill him if he tried to get away...or if he told anyone, though he didn't seem to pay much attention to that part. By the way, how did you get in? The door has a password."

Snape blinked at the change of subject, then answered, "You are very predictable. Honestly, Potter, _sangre_? _'Blood?'_ I am many things, but I am not an idiot."

"I guess I should change it to something completely _un_predictable, then? Like... '_Argus Filch is a sexy beast'? _Because I doubt that _anyone_ would ever guess that..."

Snape was too busy choking to respond, so Harry continued. "Except maybe you, since I just said it. But then, you might decide that since I said it, I wouldn't use it, so that would make it safe...not that I would _mind_ you bursting into my private room at all hours, but it's the principle of the thing, really-"

"Potter! Enough! Please, I have a headache already."

Laughing, Harry took a step closer to the man in front of him. "If you want, I could take care of that..."

Snape shot him a bitter glare, and drawled, "No, thank you, Potter. I would rather have a headache than no head at all, as is sure to happen if I let you anywhere near me with your wand."

Harry bit back the urge to make a snarky remark regarding his 'wand', and instead just said, "I'll see you in potions, Professor," and brushed by him, walking out the door, only pausing to look back at the 'greasy git' for a moment before turning and making his way to Gryffindor Tower, half an hour late.


	7. Common Room Contemplations

_AN: sorry this was so late, but I've had so much to deal with lately. School, mostly, but also some family issues. I would like it if you could check out my new website, tyger66 dot tk, and leave a message in the shoutbox, send me an email, review, etc. Just please, give me feedback. I really need to know if I'm headed in the right direction._

-----------------------------

"You were late getting back."

Harry grinned at Hermione. "I'm always late getting back."

She huffed. "Later than usual, I mean."

He shook his head, recalling the events of the night before. "I got cornered by Malfoy."

She scoffed. "Even that wouldn't keep you out _that_ late."

Sighing, Harry answered. "Okay, I had a short conversation with Snape afterwards. But it wasn't that big a deal."

She gave him a look. "And you didn't mention any of this because...?"

"Because I didn't feel like it."

She watched him for a moment, but when he refused to elaborate, she sighed and walked away. It wasn't worth dealing with him. Harry watched her with an impassive look on his face. He wondered, sometimes, just how much he had changed from the person he used to be...

Hermione was tired of his moods. She had put up with him during their whole fifth and sixth years despite being screamed at more times that she could count. She had been supportive when she found out that he was a vampire, and had even allowed herself to be turned so that the three of them could be friends-and maybe more-forever. So that Harry wouldn't be alone. But now...now, after only a few months of their new life, Harry was changing even more. Those first weeks, after he had been turned, he had changed so dramatically that Hermione had been scared, and had told Ron to find out what had happened. The relationships that had resulted from that had been...unexpected, to say the least; Ron had returned to her, thoroughly snogged, and told her that he had found out about Harry-not through questioning, but more physical means. Hermione had been shocked, but not as much as she should have been.

Since then, things had gotten much better, eventually resulting in their decision to join Harry in eternity. He had mellowed, and had become almost himself again. But now- now, something else was happening. And it frightened her.

But as Ron came down the stairs, she couldn't help but smile. He _was_ exceptionally good-looking. He took one look at Harry and knew something was up.

"What's wrong?" He asked.

Hermione looked around at the few people in the common room, all staring rather obviously at them. _'I don't know,' _she answered, lapsing into parseltongue. It was an ability that they had all developed after sharing blood with Harry. The entire room winced, and Ron hid a smirk as they headed up to the boys' dormitory together.

_'I think it might have something to do with Snape.'_

_'Snape? Is Harry still sulking about him?'_

Hermione shrugged. _'I think it's more the fact that he's finally realizing that Snape is not quite as greasy as we thought in first year.'_

The redhead grimaced at the thought. _'I can't imagine what he sees in the git.'  
_

Hermione laughed, and the conversation gradually turned to other subjects until they reached the dorm, and Ron opened the door, gesturing her inside. She smiled flirtatiously at him, and entered. He smirked, and closed the door, all thoughts of Harry and Snape suspended until later.

-------------------------

Harry stared contemplatively into the fire. Ron and Hermione had been talking about him, but he really didn't care. He couldn't understand all of what was said, but whenever they spoke in parseltongue, especially around others, it had to do with either him or their vampirism. Added to the fact that he had heard the word _Snape_, which sounded incredibly strange when spoken in the snake language, and there was no doubt what the subject of their conversation had been.

He supposed he should be resentful, that they were talking about his personal life, even more so that they were now up in the dorm, having sex in the bed right next to his, but even his most primal instincts could find nothing to complaining about. They were his blood, he had no secrets from them, and they were as much in love with each other as they were with him, and he with both of them. There was no room for jealousy, or resentment. But this thing with Snape...this could tear them apart, destroy the very delicate balance they had set up. He might be attracted to the man, could even flirt with him, but he would _never_ truly act on his feelings. It wouldn't work. He wasn't even _human_ anymore, and he had no plans on making any more of his kind. Ron and Hermione had been enough. Any one else could cause suspicion.

He sighed. It was kind of strange, being alone in this group, the Gryffindors, who had always been his good friends, supportive in the worst of times, until this. Until his most horrifying change, into a creature untouched by feeling and friendship.

"Harry?"

He looked up from the fire at Neville, who looked terrified just being in his presence.

"Yes?"

The boy shifted uncomfortably, then compulsively sat down on the couch next to Harry. "I-I was w-wondering, Harry...if-if-ifyoureallyareavampire."

Harry blinked. "Neville..._what?"_

Neville cleared his throat and pulled at his tie nervously before repeating the question, slower. "A-are you r-really a v-va-vampire?'

Harry stared for a moment, frozen. Then he quickly surveyed the room, taking note of the sudden interest everyone in the room was showing in their conversation. Sighing, he stood up. "Neville-why don't we talk somewhere else, okay?"

Neville nodded, looking positively terrified, then followed Harry out of the room, shaking like a leaf. Harry led him to the room that he had just left a little while ago, then turned around and took a long, contemplative look at him.

"Why did you ask if I was a vampire?" He asked. "Haven't you already heard all about that from the other Gryffindors?" He took a step forward, backing Neville into the corner. "Or if not, from the Ravenclaws? Maybe even the _Slytherins_? Why ask _me?_" He was getting closer and closer, and Neville finally snapped.

"Because it's _about _you! I, for one, don't like it when people believe everything they hear about me, so I thought I might actually bother to _ask_, instead of just _accepting_ it!"

Harry drew back as if he had been struck. He had expected stuttering, stammering; he had gotten Neville to lash out at him instead. It was...unexpected. He looked away, and backed off.

"Well, the rumors are right. For once. There. Question answered. Now go."

Neville hesitated, then reached out for his shoulder. "Harry-"

"_Go!_"

Harry growled, baring fangs, and Neville pulled his arm back in fear. He stumbled back, and hurried off towards the common room. When he got there, he immediately up to the dorms, sat in his bed and pulled the curtains closed, ignoring any and all questions from the other boys.

-------------------------------

Harry sighed, alone again. Maybe he shouldn't have frightened Neville off like that...but it was just a little much, this thing with Snape, and then the confrontation with Malfoy, and to top it all off, Neville had finally grown a backbone and asked the question that everyone else was too afraid to ask.

_I wonder how much longer I'll last before I someone knifes me while I'm unguarded...before I fall on my own knife..._


	8. Murder

_AN: Ok, I got this chapter out pretty fast, and I'm proud of myself for that. Behold- conflict! And a real plot begins to unfold! Hooray! Again, I apologize for my bipolar Harry, and for the abruptness of my writing, but if you go read my other fic, Death Waits For No Hero, you will see that I actually AM improving in my writing ability! Uhh...apart from that, I can't think of anything else to say...so...REVIEW!!!_

_Disclaim Her: Review and I will give you exclusive rights to my soul! _

**Murder**

Over the next few days, Harry avoided both Snape and the Underground, despite coaxing from both Ron and Hermione, and mostly spent his time wandering the castle, enjoying the feel of magic surrounding him. He was doing just that one day when he heard a scream coming from one of the less traveled corridors. He hurried toward the noise, along with a few other students who had heard it. When he reached the hallway, he stopped. It was a Slytherin - Millicent Bulstrode - that had screamed. The reason for the scream was fairly obvious - Pansy Parkinson was on the floor, in a crumpled heap. There was blood on the floor. Harry, unprepared for both the sight and the scent, had to reign back the impulse to jump at the 'prey'. He managed to control himself, but his fangs still descended, forcing him to keep his mouth tightly closed as the teachers came around the corner. Snape, Dumbledore, and McGonagall filed in slowly. Snape looked first at the girl on the floor, then at Harry, accusation in his eyes. Harry stared defiantly back, daring him to say something in front of everyone.

Dumbledore was the first to speak. "What happened, Miss Bulstrode?"

Millicent just shook her head, shivering despite the warmth of the corridor. "She-she was just laying here! And-and...the blood! Oh, Merlin, the blood..."

Harry stared at Pansy, a sick feeling growing in the pit of his stomach as Professor McGonagall turned her over. The girl was pale, almost as pale as he was now, and as McGonagall brushed her hair back to find the source of the blood, a bite mark came into view. It was not a clean bite, either. It looked as if someone had torn a piece of her throat out and taken it with them.

Gasps sounded throughout the corridor, and almost as one the other students turned to stare at Harry. Dumbledore, following their gaze, also turned towards Harry, confusion in his eyes. "Harry?"

Harry just shook his head, and opened his mouth to speak, before realizing his mistake and quickly closing it again - but not before the teachers got a good look at his fangs. Dumbledore drew his wand. "Harry. Did you do this?"

Harry's eyes widened and he almost started panicking. "No sir! I swear I didn't- I would _never_ do anything like- like _this!_" He gestured at the body on the floor. Desperate, he tried to grab Dumbledore's arm, but was stopped by a wand held to his throat by McGonagall.

"Not another step, Potter," She said, almost hissing, the cat in her showing in the presence of a vampire. Cats were, after all, their natural enemies.

"Oh, _please_," Snape sneered, rolling his eyes. "You really think _Potter, _of all people, would kill someone? Even if he is a vampire, the boy is far too well trained to do something like that."

Harry silently started thanking whatever gods he could think of, and pleaded that that would be enough to convince the Headmaster. He didn't like the old bastard, but he _did_ like Hogwarts, and was definitely not ready to leave.

Dumbledore looked torn, unsure of the whole situation. Finally, he sighed. "Harry, I want to talk to you in my office."

Nervous for the first time in months, Harry nodded, and followed the elderly man through the winding halls of Hogwarts and into his comfortable office.

-------------------------------

Dumbledore sat down, and gestured at the seat in front of the desk. Harry, not taking his eyes off the Headmaster, slid into the chair and tried not to fidget, feeling like a first year all over again.

"Harry-"

"I'm not going to make excuses for what I am, okay? Yes, I'm a vampire. But I didn't kill Parkinson. I don't kill people, not like that."

Dumbledore leaned forward over the desk. "I believe you, Harry. But I think you should tell me the whole story, starting at the beginning."

Harry sighed, reclining back in his chair, hoping against hope that he could avoid bringing Ron and Hermione into this. "Well, sir...I- um,-that is-I, well...I met this girl, and..." He trailed off, hoping Dumbledore would get the point.

"Ah," he answered, nodding sagely. "I understand. Go on."

Harry resisted the urge to growl at the man's slightly amused expression. "I woke up the next morning with marks. That's when I knew she was a vampire. But I didn't know I had been changed, not until later..."

The Headmaster sat quietly for a moment. "Harry, I do not believe that you killed Miss Parkinson. However, the rest of the school -and, I daresay, the world- will not see it that way. As it is, they have no jurisdiction in my school, and it is up to me to decide whether or not you are a suspect. I am afraid that this will not simply blow over, though, and it will only be a matter of time before the letters begin pouring in. You will be under great suspicion, Harry."

Harry nodded, a look of perfected innocence on his face. He had to make Dumbledore believe him, and acting the way he normally did would not help, even if he really was innocent. "I understand, sir. I'll just have to deal with it."

"Indeed you will. I shall try to keep the press off of school campus, but there will have to be an investigation. Do you know of anyone that might have done this?"

Harry tried to think, but no names came to mind. "No sir. I'm sorry."

The Headmaster smiled. "It's alright, Harry." Then he took a deep breath. "I'm afraid that I will have to place some restrictions on you now, though."

Harry sat up straight, and stared. "I'm sorry? _Restrictions?_"

"Well, my boy, you _are _a vampire, and the other students will not feel safe unless they are sure you are..._contained._"

Harry could feel the beginnings of fury burning in his chest. "Contained. You want to..._contain_ me. Like an animal."

"No, not like that at all. I just feel that we have to..."

"To _what? _Lock me up so I can't _hurt_ anyone? Even though I've been a vampire for the _entire year?_"

The old man looked as if he was struggling for words, but Harry wasn't going to let him say anything.

"I'm not going to let you control me. There are no laws against vampires at the school, and you have _no right_ to limit me in what I can and cannot do just because you think some parents will be upset."

He got up and walked out.

----------------------------

Ron and Hermione were waiting for him in the common room, playing a game of wizarding chess in a corner, away from the rest of the Gryffindors. When he walked in, the entire room seemed to grow colder, and he could feel the glares and accusations coming from the other students.

"Harry?" Hermione asked, her gaze questioning.

Harry looked at them, trying to decide what to tell them, and eventually nodded his head towards the door. "Outside."

The pair followed him out of the room, glancing at each other with trepidation.

When Harry reached an alcove, he turned and leveled his gaze at the pair, looking from one to the other. "Someone killed Pansy Parkinson."

Hermione gasped, and brought her hand up to cover her mouth. Ron spoke up. "I heard something about it, but no one will talk to me..."

Harry nodded shortly. "That would be because it looks like a vampire killed her."

Ron and Hermione both got paler, if that was possible. "But-but how is that possible?"

"Well, either there's another vampire at the school, or-" Harry hated having to say the next part. "or one of us did it."

The three of them looked at each other, and Harry could feel the trust between them falling to pieces before his eyes.


	9. The Breakdown

_AN: The POV in this chapter is kind of hard to understand, and I want you to know that I have just as much trouble understanding it as you do. XD Yes, Harry is extremely OOC here, especially at the end, and I didn't get in that kiss that I really wanted to write, but I tried, and I do believe that this is my longes chapter yet. So...be happy!_

_Disclaim Her: Review and I'll give you your own personal Draco doll to play with! _

**The Breakdown  
**

The next two days were torture. The very weather seemed to be reflecting Harry's mood, growing darker and stormier by the hour. Harry had been increasingly paranoid, as well, leading to him deciding that it might not be the best idea to keep sleeping in the same room as Ron and Hermione. He knew it bothered them, but they didn't say anything when he stopped returning to their room. He was so sick of the constant suspicion.

Potions class was a nightmare. Harry had been working on his potion in silence, ignoring worried glances from Ron and Hermione, when something explosive landed right in the middle of his cauldron. He stared at it dumbly for a moment before it went off, throwing thick, acidic liquid all over the room, and its occupants.

"Potter!"

Harry looked up with a growing feeling of dread as Snape stalked towards him from across the room, his eyes screaming blatant hatred.

"It wasn't my fault, Sir," He said as calmly as he could.

Snape glared daggers at him. "Detention, Potter, and fifty points from Gryffindor for damages to the classroom."

Harry nodded, feeling somewhat relieved that Snape had abstained from his usual barrage of yelling and insults.

The rest of class was spent cleaning the room and sending students to the infirmary for burns. Harry focuses on helping, trying to forget that the person who had thrown the firecracker had been from the Gryffindor side of the room.

It didn't help that he was starving, having not fed in almost two weeks.

-----------------------

"I didn't kill her." Harry said from his seat in the front of the room. He felt that that had been the real reason for this detention, and the exploding cauldron had just been an excuse for Snape to do what he had been itching to do all class.

Snape looked at him skeptically. "You are one of three vampires in the school, boy, and I sincerely doubt that either of your lackeys would stoop so low."

Harry stared at him defiantly. "I don't need to defend myself from _you._ You wouldn't believe me even the real killer were staring you in the face."

Snape stood, moving with a liquid grace that almost matched Harry's. It was no wonder that so many of the younger students were under the impression that their potions master was less than living. "But the killer _is_ staring me in the face, Potter."

Harry stood up and stalked up to Snape, glaring. "I didn't_ touch_ her."

Snape leaned forward, and Harry leaned back so that he could still see the man clearly. Despite the situation, he realized with a growing horror that he was getting turned on by the Potions Master's close proximity.

"I sincerely doubt that, Potter, considering the nature of her wounds..."

Harry stepped back, giving himself space to clear his head so that he could face the accusations being thrown at him without any semblance of subtlety. "I swear, Snape, I never went near her. I had nothing against her. Why would I kill her?"

Snape just sneered. Harry groaned in frustration.

"You know what your deal is?" He asked, deciding to get to the root of the problem, and wishing that it didn't matter so much that Snape thought he was innocent. "Even last year, when we worked together, you never saw me as anything but some twisted reincarnation of my father come back to hurt you. Well guess what? _I'm not him._ And hurting me is not going to make my _dead father_ feel bad about what he did. I'm _Harry_, not James-Potter's-son. And I'm sick of _everything _you do being tainted by your hate for a dead man." He threw up his hands, and continued ranting. "You-are-so-_infuriating!_ The way you blame everything on me, even if you have no proof at all! And it makes me want to-to-hit you! Or...or-"

He stopped. And sat down. He took a deep breath, holding longer than humanly possible, then let it out. "Professor Snape," He said, all composure, not even a hint of the fury from five minutes before remaining in his voice. He spoke in a cool, collected, and completely emotionless tone. "I apologize for my outburst. It was uncalled for. I should go."

He stood up, barely controlling the shaking of his hands, and headed for the door.

Snape stood there, shocked for a moment, then reached out and grabbed Harry's arm. "Did I say your detention was over, Potter?"

Harry turned around quickly and tried very hard not to hiss or in some other way threaten his Potions Professor. "Please, sir. I am very tired, and I have been unable to feed for at least a week and a half. I _need_ to go."

Snape was contemplating the boy's words. He said a week and a half. Parkinson had been killed in the past three days. He doubted even Potter was such a good actor that he could fake blood starvation. The red rings around his irises gave him away. Snape sighed, mentally giving up. He had hoped that maybe he had finally caught Potter in something truly horrible, that he had not spent the last six years being inhumanly cruel to an essentially innocent boy.

"Potter...I believe you."

Harry stared. Then, he nodded slowly, and asked, "May I go now, sir? I really need to feed."

Snape looked him over once, for the first time noticing the more extreme signs of Harry's self-enforced starvation. He was surprised the Gryffindor had been able to make it through the last two days without _really_ attacking someone.

"And how do you plan on getting any blood tonight? Do you have some willing donors up in Gryffindor Tower, perhaps?"

Harry flinched at the mention of the Tower, where his fellow Gryffindors were surely discussing a way to get him expelled. "I was going to go to the Underground. They serve blood there."

Snape shook his head. "You are barely able to stand, boy." He shoved the restless vampire back down into the desk. "I doubt you could even make it to the Dungeons exit. When was the last time you slept?"

Harry snorted. "Last June."

When Snape's mouth fell open in shock, he elaborated. "I don't sleep, professor. I can't. Neither can Ron or Hermione. I thought you would have known that, considering everything _else_ you know about vampires."

Snape cleared his throat, trying not to be offended by the snappish tone. "Be that as it may, there is still the problem of you being in _my _room, starving, about to collapse. And, contrary to belief, I do _not_ keep vials of students' blood in my desk."

Harry couldn't help it: he laughed. "Well, that leaves three options. One: you let me die. Two: you go up to the hospital wing and see if you can get Pomfrey to lend you some blood...good luck explaining that. And then there's three: I feed off of you."

Snape stood there motionless for a moment, then sat down at his desk, wishing that he had not assigned Potter this detention, and wishing even more that he had never discovered that Potter was a vampire to start with. The first option was not even an option, and he had little to no hope of ever getting the nurse to let him have some of the blood she had stored up. That only left the third option. Unless- "Are you sure I couldn't just firecall your friends and get them to get you something?"

Harry laughed bitterly. "I can't trust them not to do something to it."

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean that _I_ may not have killed Parkinson, but _someone_ did. And that someone was a vampire, which means that either there's another vampire in the school, or one of them did it. So I don't feel comfortable trusting them with my life right now."

Snape rolled his eyes. "Ah, how strong the bonds of friendship are. So, how are we going to do this?"

Harry struggled to stand up again, and said, "Well, first, I'll need your arm..." He reached out, and Snape stretched out his long, pale arm. Harry ran his index finger over the vein, finding the most vulnerable spot.

"I don't do this very often, so I'm sorry if it stings a bit."

Snape snorted. "Just get it over with."

Harry nodded shortly, then bit in, his fangs sinking deeply into the Professor's arm. He groaned as the blood filled his mouth, bringing with it vague emotions and flashes of memory. Harry carefully avoided the memories, knowing that he would probably regret anything he saw. He was embarrassed by his reaction to this intimate contact, though. Snape had to have noticed the erection digging into his leg. To keep the both of them from falling over, he moved down into a kneeling position, pulling the man down with him. After a few moments of them remaining in that position, Harry was alerted by a slight fluttering of Snape's heart, a sign that he needed to let go. He reluctantly pulled away, allowing Snape's arm to rest in his hands just a second longer than he should have. He stood, strong once more, and extended his hand to help the Professor up.

Snape took the hand, pulling himself to his feet, wondering how he had ended up on the floor to start with. "Potter-" he began.

"No," Harry interrupted, from where he was collapsing into a desk. "No talking. I don't feel like dealing with anything right now." He drew his legs up into the chair, hugging his knees to his chest. "You know I've been staying in a broom closet at night? I'm too worried that one of the Gryffindors will stake me while I'm doing my homework, or that Ron or Hermione is the killer, and it's only a matter of time until they get me." He took a breath, then let it out in what sounded uncomfortably like a sob to Snape. "Not that the cupboard is that bad. I slept in one for ten years, and this one has locks...I just-I hate the paranoia, the feeling that I'm not safe." He laughed, and it sounded painful, like it was being torn out of his throat. "I thought all that would be over once Voldemort was gone."

He closed his eyes, trying to get himself under control again. _Do not break down. Not now. Not here._

Snape was at a complete loss. Still a little weak from letting Potter feed, and feeling strangely sympathetic with the boy, he tried to think of something to say that would not make him sound like a complete ass.

"Potter...you can stay here."

_Where did that come from?_

Harry's eyes snapped open, and locked onto the Professor's. "What did you say?" He asked quietly.

"I...I said you could stay here."

Harry stared at him, as if evaluating his intentions. Then he nodded. "Alright then," He whispered, looking at the floor. "I'll stay here."


	10. Introversion

_AN: Look! points It's a new chapter! To **Lils:** facepalm I can't believe I missed that...I fixed it, though! and to the rest of my reviewers: I love you guys, and I'm so glad that you like this fic...frankly, I was terrified when I started writing it, because good Snarry is so hard to write, and I'm not sure that I can approach it half as well as some...but I'm trying, and your reviews most definitely make me want to write faster!_

_PS: I am SO sorry about this chapter's sucky-ness, and the super OOC Snape and Harry, but I just started writing and I couldn't stop, and when I was finished I had-THIS, and I just couldn't bring myself to change it. Also, the majority of this was written while under the influence of regina spektor, so I can't be held totally accountable..._

**Introversion**

Harry sat, and allowed his mind to wander deep into itself, as he often did at night when all others were asleep. He closed his eyes and imagined that maybe he was asleep, and human once more, and in Gryffindor Tower, happy and naive as he used to be.

It was a pointless exercise. He opened his eyes, and stared at the fire that Snape had started before he went to bed, and waited for morning.

---------------

When Snape woke up, he found Harry exactly where he had left him the night before. As he entered the room, Harry looked up towards him.

"I'm surprised you haven't asked me more about the effects of my...condition. Any particular reason why not?"

Snape, still half asleep and unready for the sudden question, rubbed at his forehead and squinted at the young wizard on his couch. "Too preoccupied, I suppose, with the mere fact of your condition."

Harry nodded, seeming satisfied, and returned his gaze to the dancing flames. For a few minutes all was silent as Snape grabbed a piece of toast from the kitchen he had insisted be placed in his chambers, but Harry spoke again.

"I can feel your mind."

Snape stopped mid-bite, and stared.

"I could hear your dreams. You are a very bitter person. Of course, I already knew that, but it came as a surprise that even your dreams are haunted by bitter memories of dead loved ones."

Harry had not looked away from the fire again, but he seemed to be staring at Snape as he spoke. "I guess it comes from the blood. I've never taken so much from one person before, except Ron, and that was when I changed him. I just assumed it was the fact that I changed him that created the link, not just that I took his blood and he took mine..." He stopped rambling, and took a good look at his Professor. "I'm sorry your wife died." He looked away. "It wasn't your fault."

Snape was still frozen, shocked and horrified at the words that were coming out of the young man's mouth, revealing secrets he had so carefully put behind him. Eventually, choking, he found his voice.

"Shut up, Potter."

Harry turned all the way around, staring into the kitchen, his eyes burning holes into Snape's. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said anything."

Getting up, he brushed off his robes. "Thank you for the blood and sanctuary, Professor. I owe you a life debt."

Snape shook his head. "Just get out."

Harry smiled sadly, nodded, and, grabbing his cloak from the couch, left quickly.

Snape reached for a drink, deciding that the only way to suitably rid himself of the memories Potter had dragged painfully to the surface was to drown them in alcohol.

-------------

He had gotten married, just out of school. It was not that unusual at the time, and but it had not lasted.

Not even two years.

Even with all the amazing medical and magical advances, even with everything they were capable of...cancer was still a death sentence.

She had been diagnosed about six months after the wedding, and had died within the year.

Potter was right. He was bitter.

He was also drunk.

Very drunk.

He refilled his glass.

--------------

Harry winced at the feeling of another's mind within his own, then winced again at the feelings and sensations that were making their way down the link, screaming physical and emotional distress. He tried to ignore it and focus on his conversation with Hermione, but it was very distracting.

Hermione, seeing his pained expression, glanced worriedly at him. "Harry? Are you okay?"

Harry responded shortly. "Yeah, I'm fine." _Can't say the same for Snape, though... _"What were you saying?"

She looked him over, a mothering glint in her eye, before continuing. "I was saying that I think we should search the castle for another."

"Sounds good. When do we start?" He asked, trying very hard to keep his voice from shaking.

She cocked her head inquisitively. "You don't sound like you're fine, Harry." In one swift movement, she knelt down in front of where he was sitting and leaned forward to get a good look at him. "You _have _been feeding, haven't you?"

"Yes," He snapped, and brushed away her hands when she tried to hug him. "I told you. I'm fine. I just...had a bad night, okay?"

She gave him a look that clearly said she didn't believe a word he was saying, but that she would let it go for the moment.

"Well...okay then," She said. "I thought we could start tomorrow, and just work our way through the castle, feeling around, you know. Seeing if we can sense someone else."

Harry nodded absently, grimacing as he felt Snape downing another drink. If he'd known that taking that much blood would result in a link of that strength, he might have just let himself die.

Hermione was giving him that concerned look again, and he grinned at her to show her that he was, as he had just said, fine. "Really, you shouldn't worry so much, Hermione. You might get wrinkles."

She laughed despite herself, and playfully cuffed him on the shoulder. "You should talk! No one worries more than you!"

Harry sat back in his chair, pleased with himself for successfully distracting her. "We should go find Ron and explain the plan to him."

Hermione shifted uncomfortably. "Actually, Harry...I was thinking that maybe we shouldn't tell Ron just yet."

"What?" Harry stood up. "Are you saying...?"

Hermione shook her head vigorously. "No! Not at all! It's just...he's been...different, lately, and I thought that maybe we should wait a while before telling him anything."

Harry, tired of beating around the bush, did what he would not have normally done with one of his partners. He reached towards her mind, silently asking permission to enter. Hermione, a little shocked by his decision, exercising a power they had decided to never use on each other, still agreed to let him in, if only to keep her from having to voice her terrible suspicions. Ron had always been the most violent of them, with the shortest temper, and the kill had been a hateful, violent crime. It...fit, though she hated even thinking it.

Harry drew back into himself quickly, horrified by the thoughts he had seen. He stared at her, his eyes pleading for a misunderstanding. "You think...Ron? He wouldn't do that. He cares too much about us."

Hermione took a shaky breath, held it for far too long, then let it out again. "I doubt that there's another vampire anywhere in the school, or we would have sensed them, but I think that we should still search. I won't say anything about my suspicions until we actually prove that we are the only vampires here."

Harry, desperately trying to forget the accusations rushing around in his head, all pointing towards Ron. His best friend, lover, childe, and much more. "It's not him. There's another. There has to be. Ron has no reason to kill anyone."

Hermione put a hand on his shoulder, trying to reassure him. "Of course not. Forget about it, Harry. Let's start searching tomorrow, okay?"

Harry nodded.

"You should come back to the Tower."

The words were softly voiced, and Harry wanted to give in, just because he knew it would make the young woman before him that much happier.

"No."

She withdrew the hand from his shoulder. "I'm sorry that you don't feel safe, Harry. I wish I hadn't said anything."

Harry laughed shortly, and she winced, because it was a bitter sound. "It's not that. I'm not sure how I feel anymore. About Ron, about...you..."

His voice faded away to nothing near the end. He turned away. "I don't think I should come back to the tower at all. I..."

Hermione gazed sadly at his back, remembering her thoughts from a few days before. It seemed that he was finally pulling away from them. "It's okay. I think I understand."

He turned around to stare, his eyes tired and red rimmed, as though he had been crying. She nodded a goodbye towards him, then walked slowly away.

Harry watched her turn the corner, then let out a silent scream and slammed the wall beside him as hard as he could with his hand, breaking both his hand and the wall.

He stook stoicly as the bones in his hand healed painfully, and stared at the hole in the stone beside him.

When he could move his hand once again, he left as silently as he had arrived.


	11. Sorry!

Okay. I know that anyone who has read my stuff is going to be really pissed at me for this. But this fic has been sitting around for a couple of months, with me trying to find a way to get where I want to go. That's my problem, you see? I've got a very good idea of what I want to do with this fic, but I have no idea how to get there. I've kind of written myself into a corner, just like I did with DWFNH. Fortunately, though, unlike DWFNH, this isn't so far gone that I can't (hopefully) fix it.

So, I'm rewriting. I'm reposting the first (real) chapter today, and for a while, (possibly longer), the first chapters won't make sense with the last few chapters. And I'm sorry for that. But I can't continue this the way it's going, and I can't just give up on it.

I hope you guys won't give up on me. :)


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